Darkfang
by Xanthe Deluna
Summary: A new presence is threatening Redwall, one that's already managed to take Salamandastron. Now it's up to a head-strong squirrel and her loyal friend to return things to normal. Please R&R! =)
1. A Rainy Day

This is my first Redwall fic so be gentle! It's not finished but when you're done reading it if you could R&R that'd be awesome. The more the reviews the quicker it'll be finished! And if you like this, check out some of my other stuff! =) 

Disclaimer: I made up most all the characters and poems, but there's some reference to dead warlords and the poem about hot root soup is from one of the real books.   
  


The Summer of the Great Rain, wore on in Mossflower. The trees cast off large droplets of water from the rain that poured down incessantly. It had been raining steadily for the entire summer and going outside the walls of Redwall Abbey meant slugging through pawfuls of mud. Two otters trudged through the mud, one with a haversack of supplies on his back, the second with a small mole perched atop his shoulders. The mole's once velvety fur now clung to him, coated with mud and drenched to the bone. He scratched his head with a hefty digging claw and stifled a yawn. 

"Boi okey, wot toim doo 'ee get to th' habbey," he asked, wearily. 

"I don't rightly know, matey," replied Dral, slinging the pack to his other shoulder. "Seems only a day or two o'er that way." 

The second otter, Bluback, stopped suddenly and turned in towards the woods. "Getten' to be nightfall, messmates, and it's getten' to be a good time to break out the vittles. I sure could do with a nice snug fire too." 

"Burr, hurr, hurr," laughed Garble in his strange mole speech. "Oi doan't knaow aboot the foir but the vikkles oi can manage." 

Bluback chuckled and entered the woods, Dral close behind him. As they walked deeper, Garble suddenly began pounding Bluback's head. "Boi okey! Oi, smells summat!" He waved his digging claws in the air excitedly! "It smells gudd, too!" 

"Aye," said Dral, slowly coming to a stop. "I smell blood too." Bluback froze. "Only vermin eat meat..." 

"But there ain't no vermin in Mossflower. They should know better by now than ter try ter take Redwall." 

Dral took a step forward, but then leaped back as a hare came out of seemingly nowhere. "Hmph! Bit of a bad show! We found the bally stinkers first!" 

"Completely agree Beachtree," came a second hare. "We found the yahoos first!" 

"Oi doo bee sorry, gentlebeasts an' marms. Weem didn't even know the vermints were 

up 'ere..." 

"I'd swear on a carrot pie," growled the second hare. "You're the noiseist chap I ever clapped me ears on." 

With that, the hares dodged and weaved their way back into the surrounding bushes, completely blending in with the foliage. The two otters drew their javelins, and Bluback set Garble down, quietly telling him to stay put. 

"Ooo, aye, B'uback, oi will stay put, yoo can count on that!" 

Creeping forward they stopped just short of the clearing, to face a horrible scene. Six drunken ferrets sat around a brightly-lit campfire, huddled close to it, their clothing hung on nearby branches to dry. The biggest and probably the leader was laughing uproariously, stopping once and a while to rip at his roasted sparrow. He wore only an adder skin belt, a small dagger poked through. Several rusty swords and a shattered pike lay around the campfire. One truly magnificent sword lay close to the large ferrets foot paw. It had beautiful green gems and gold balls set in the black hilt, and it reflected the light, twinkling like a far off star. It looked so out of 

place, Dral almost laughed aloud. Bluback put a paw to his friend's mouth, shooting him a warning glance. Drunken ferrets were especially ruthless and even more stupid then when they were sober. They listened silently as the ferret spoke. 

"Harharharhar, so 'e takes 'is club an', wham, slugs at me an', harhar, 'e clubs Greech righ' down! Course the idjits too shocked ter move, harharhar, an' that bez 'is final mistake, cause I swings me sord an' chops 'im right in 'alf!" 

Several cheers accompanied laughter from around the circle, as the big ferret demonstrated his swording skills. Suddenly, the ferret nearest the leader dropped right over on his side. The other five ferrets laughed and one slapped his leg hysterically. 

"Lookey! Seaswigs gone an' gotten hissef drunk! Harharhar!" 

When a second ferret toppled headfirst into the fire, the creatures antics was greeted by a single nervous chuckle from the ferret to the right of the leader. The leader buffeted the slow ferret on the side of his head. 

"Hoo, stoopud! 'Es been attackered!" The ferrets glanced around uneasily, their paws raised. "Err, we surrender muckers," shouted the leader. 

"Is 'at you, Natch? It's me, Veeor Darkfang!" 

Captain Sapwood stepped forward with a gallant bow. He swept his cap off and nearly 

touched his snout to the ground. Then he gave a warm smile to the four surprised creatures. "Give 'em blood 'n' vinegar!" 

"Eulaliaa! 'S death on the wind!" 

"Redwaallllllll!" 

The hares and the two otters leapt at the astonished ferrets from around the circle. The biggest ferret was surprising agile and had drawn the sword before Captain Sapwood had gotten within a hairsbreadth from him. Veeor swung out, slicing a deep gash in Drals paw. Dral flung the javelin hard, hitting a smaller ferret suddenly stepping directly in the line of fire. A second ferret 

went down under three other hares and the remaining two fled into the woods. One of the hares began to give chase, but Captain Sapwood called him back. 

"Flopeer, me bucko, bad form!" 

Flopeer gave a cry of anger, but stopped, beginning a slow jog back to the group. He stopped in front of Sapwood and for the first time the otters saw his immense size. When Garble came shuffling over he immediately knew he liked Flopeer. 

"'Ello, zurr. You'm sure harv gurt big ears!" 

The hare cocked his head at the small mole, regarding him with a giant smile. "That I do, moleything. That's how I got me name!" 

Captain Sapwood puffed out his chest in great importance. "Quick's the word and sharps the action! My name is Captain Turnle Thistledown Sapwood of the Sapwood hares, this is 

Sarge Flopeer, this is Reen an' 'is luvely sister, Tallonia an' this is Beachtree, quite possibly the purdeyst hare in all of Salamandastron." 

Beachtree giggled and curtsied. 

"I'm Bluback," introduced the big otter. "An' this is Garble an' this is Dral, me best mates." "Wots Salymandystron?" Garble spoke for the trio. 

Tallonia knelt down in front of the small mole. "Salamandastron, little thingamummy moley, is the grandest place in the southern lands. It's a great giant mountain, ruled over by a badger..." She stopped, tears brimming in her eyes. 

Reen placed a strong paw on his sisters shaking shoulders. "There, there ol' gel! We'll get the rotten blighters back one day." Then he turned to Garble. "It is a great mountain ruled over by either a badger Lord or badger Lady. Ours was Lady Moyra the Silent. She was a mute, but a very powerful and friendly badger. When the Darkfangs showed up, we were completely unprepared, doncha know! Even though we are warring beasts! But the ferret's Death Hordes were too overpowering. We all fought valiantly an' bravely yet all but us five died." Reen finished bitterly. 

Dral stood up, having finished bandaging his paw. He winced as he stood up, putting the sling back in his belt. 

"Why do you come this way then, friend? We are peaceful 'ere." Captain Sapwood began 

pacing nervously. "Because we have nowhere else to turn, Blu-thing. Certainly somebeast 'ere is willing to help us." 

"Woi did 'e take 'ee mountian in 'ee firs' place?" Flopeer patted Garble softly. 

"Woi?" He did his best to mimic the way the little mole spoke. "'Cause they bee 

vermuns. All they wanna do is destroy an' conquer." 

"Redwall Abbey is just up ahead. That's where we are traveling messmates. They got vittles a plenty an' mayhap they can lend a paw. They've defeated any vermin ever to set paw in this land." Beachtree sighed softly. 

"Hi hope so Bluback, hi really do, but The Darkfang Death Horde his the greatest group o' vermins hi ever clapped me peepers on." 


	2. A Fallen Salamandastron

A great mountain stood against the horizon, deep scorch marks smearing its outside. Arrows, javelins, smooth pebbles and large rocks dotted the side and a rotting stench filled the air. 

A dagger buried itself in a wooden board, cut in the shape of a hare. The blade had sunk into the area of where the forehead would be on a real beast. 

"Excellent throw, mistress." The voice was soft and most disarming. The voice belonged to a pretty young ferret. She wore a cloak of green and gold, delicately sewn at the end. The hood of the cloak was pulled up, shadowing the face. However, when the light shone at a direct angel, 

a pair of green eyes shone out. Her claws were painted green and gold and she wore a small, polished dagger at her side. A brown furred paw plucked the dagger from the board and carried it daintily to a seated figure. The ferret laid the dagger down softly on the armrest of the great stone chair. 

"As usual, Mlura." The voice was cold and devoid of emotion. The seated figure stood up and strode quickly to the window, her black cloak flowing behind her. For once, however, her hood was down, revealing a beautiful ferret, still fairly young like her advisor, Mlura. Allowing a small smile, the ferret revealed small black dyed fangs, proving how she had gotten her last 

name. All of her claws were dyed black also, but she wore small black, chain mail gauntlets, cut in a fashion as to let her claws stick out the ends. Sheathed at her waist was a long slender sword, one side strait and deadly, the other side jagged, like a row of fangs. The hilt was a midnight black, set with small green gems and golden balls. She'd found it in the badger's forge. Her right paw rested easily on it, the other on a deadly dagger. A second, smaller dagger lay unseen in 

the binds of her sandal, easily accessible for emergencies. 

"Mlura, look at my Death Horde. I, Azcar Darkfang the Assassin, daughter of Hellsteeth' designed my soldiers in every aspect as my great grandsire, Klitch, son of Ferhago the Assassin. What they attempted and failed, paying with their lives, I have accomplished. As soon as I have made a decent fortress out of this mountain, I shall continue onward, taking Mossflower and," she paused, cherishing the thought, "Redwall Abbey. Those yellowbellied, sniveling cowards will one day slave for me, they will pay for their mistakes of helping these retched badgers." 

Mlura nodded silently, letting her mistress revel in her delusions of grandeur. Inwardly, the ferret advisor thought the Assassin to be the most idiotic ferret to ever walk the southern lands. She knew; everybeast knew; that no matter how powerful the horde, nobeast had ever defeated the Redwallers. They had spirits of bygone warriors; great birds; riverdogs and small, fierce mice-like creatures to defend them. Somehow, Azcar seemed to sense Mlura's thoughts. 

"You doubt me, don't you, Mlura." She smiled pityingly at her advisor. "Yes, I know they have never been defeated, but they've never met me either." 

"Mistress, while I don't doubt your words hold wisdom..." 

"Silence, you great flea bitten mass, I know you doubt my words!" She held the dagger tip to the surprised ferret's throat. "Mark my words, Mlura. I will destroy Redwall." Her laugh was so cruel, the guards outside her door cringed. She glanced moodily down at her horde. They were dragging the slain bodies of hares off, where they were burned. The ferrets each got their own graves, complete with markers and words of wisdom. The stench was so foul that Darkfang lit another candle. It burned pleasant fragrances. She seated herself once more, taking a sip of elderberry wine. Salamandastron had a great store of food and drink. Although the crops planted on the outside of the mountain had been burned to ashes, the half of her horde not burying slain foes, were cultivating trees, and new plants. There was a fresh water supply, making a siege virtually impossible and the perfect fortress. She wasn't sure what to rename it yet. Maybe Darkfang Fortress, but that sounded strange on her tongue on second thought. She absentmindedly stroked the long jagged scar that ran all the way down her arm. The confounded badger had done that right before Azcar beheaded the thing. She shivered. The badger had been a powerful warrior. She snapped out of her reverie in a foul mood. 

"Where is my dim-witted brother, Mlura? He is far over do." Darkfang poured a second glass of the wine, sniffing it delicately. The hares certainly did know how to make some good wine. "If he does not have new recruits..." Azcar picked up a roasted halibut and ripped it with her sharp teeth. 

As if on cue, Veeor entered. A small ferret followed close behind him, his eyes downcast. "Brother." Her voice remained devoid of emotion. 

"'ellsteeth sister! While yew remain all nice an' snug in yer cozy badger mountain, yew gots me out riskin' me tail fer our stupid 'orde. Next time, I stay 'ere an yew kin go an' face death!" 

"Elegantly put, as usual, brother." The voice was cold and bored. 

Veeor glared at her. "Righto, sister, I'll tell yer what yew wanna 'ear. We found a group o' about thirty-five ferrets. I killed their leader an' left Flagg in charge o' them wid the 'elp o' Draagsnout an' Spliteer. They'll be arrivin' soon." He pointed a claw at the ferret next to him. "On our way back, we was set upon by a group o' barbaric rats an' only me 'n Dryeye 'ere survived!" 

"How convenient," growled Azcar. She drew her dagger and pressed none to gently to Dryeye's throat. "Tell me, scum. Does my brother speak the truth?" 

Dryeye gulped fearfully, glancing nervously back and forth between the siblings. "Err, err, 

aye, yes, mis'ress, 'ats exarctly 'ow it 'appened!" 

Azcar Darkfang stared silently at the ferret. Then she turned a sharp grin at her brother. At that moment, Veeor realized his sister didn't believe him. The dagger flashed once, gleaming a 

bright red. 

Azcar turned to her brother, Dryeye whimpering pitifully. "It was some of the hares wasn't it?" Then she glanced back at Dryeye. "As for you, numbskull, you will only lose the ear for listening to my brothers pathetic lying skills." 

Veeor shot a murderous glance at his sister, but she didn't even flinch. With barely controlled rage, Veeor grabbed the tearful Dryeye and dragged him out of the room, slamming the door shut in Dryeyes face. Then Veeor wheeled around to face his sister. His snout was so close to hers, she could smell grog on his breath. Where he'd gotten that, she didn't know. 

Anger welling up in him he drew his sword suddenly, bringing it down on Azcar's head with a mighty blow. But the Assassin was one step ahead of him, and steel clashed against steel, a grin playing across her lips. 

"I know you much too well, dear brother, for you to try to pull a trick like that." 

He lifted the sword away, swinging at her waist instead. Once more, the move was predicted and Darkfang's sword pinned down Veeor's. He struggled to lift it away, letting his guard completely down. Azcar kicked him dead in his stomach and he went flying into the far wall, his sword flung far away. In a blink, Azcar was on him, the smile still playing about her lips; the sword point pressed none to gently to his neck. 

"I could kill you, nitbrain, I could slay you with a single swipe and your handsome head would go rolling away." Veeor unleashed a tirade of curses on his sister, and without batting an eye, she pushed harder, a trickle of blood coursing down his neck, silencing him. Then, with a quick swipe of her sword, she slashed a small cut on his left cheek. "Get out of here." Veeor leapt 

to his paws and Mlura handed the sword to him. He glanced at Mlura and then angrily slashed at her head. Mlura leapt back with a cry, but once more, Azcar's sword clashed against Veeor's. 

"Get out." Her voice had dropped dangerously low. 

Seething with rage, blood dripping from both his neck and his cheek, he glared once more at Azcar and then opened the door, roaring to his sister as he did so. 

"One day, I'll kill ya', Azcar! I'll send ya deep to the Gates o' 'Ell!" He slammed the door, his sister's mocking reply ringing in his ears. 

"Get in line, dear brother. Get in line!" 

After the Darkfang had left, Mlura glanced nervously at Azcar. "Mistress, weren't the hares destroyed?" 

Azcar frowned, and tapped her foot paw against the cold stone, wiping blood onto a small cloth on the table. "They should be, if it weren't for my idiotic brother. He couldn't hit the ground if he was sitting on it. I suppose now I will have to send out a search party." 

The alerting from the drums below drew the pair to the window. Far below on the beach, Flagg was marching smartly in the front of a group of ferrets. The ferrets were painted bright war colors, but they hefted broken spears, dented swords, sharpened sticks and worn out slings. The Darkfang emitted a low growl. She'd have to outfit each of the new recruits and provide them with half decent weapons. She turned smartly to Mlura, quickly ordering her to find Spliteer to search out the hares. 

"Tell Spliteer to form a tracking group of five beasts including himself. They must leave immediately." 

With Mlura gone, she quickly stuck her head out the door. "Guard," she barked sharply. "Fetch me Dethcurl the Seer!" 

When the ferret blanched and hesitated, Azcar ill-temperedly drew her sword and ran the ferret clear through. She twisted it out and the guard crumpled to a lifeless heap. Then she wheeled to face the second guard, only to find him more than willing to comply. She glared up and down the corridor and then entered back into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. 


	3. Poems and the Future

The great Joseph Bell rang out the noontime hour, two wet moles hanging onto the ropes for dear life. Finally, Brother Harwood, Recorder at Redwall Abbey, pulled the little dibbuns off. 

"That's about enough of that, Grimmble. You too, Rupple." The two young moles stared at Harwood, Grimmble smiling slightly. 

"Yoo zee, zurr? Oi doo bee stron'er 'an 'ee!" 

Brother Harwood was an aging mouse, with gray silver fur. Although he was of many seasons, he was still surprising strong, second only to the Skipper of the Otters. He laughed at the little creature and then winked at Skip as the otter ascended the steps. 

"Aye, that ya may be, mate. But are ya stronger than Skipper o' the Otters?" Skipper lifted the two moles with a single swipe of his paws. They laughed gleefully and Rupple pounded Grimmble's arm. 

"Thur Grimm'le! You'm not stron'er 'an maister Skip!" 

Grimmble shook his head indignantly, waving his hefty digging claws about his head. "Nay, liddle moley! Oi be so stron' oi bee pickin' up maister Skip an' 'ee!" 

Brother Harwood and Skipper laughed fondly at Grimmble. It was hard not to like the two mole twins. 

"C'mon me messmates! It's time fer a bit o' vittles!" The otter turned to look at Harwood. "Ya comin' 'ar?" 

The Recorder shook his head. "If you don't mind Skip, I'd like the food sent to my room. I've been doing some research on the southern lands and I keep meaning to get back to it." 

The otter nodded. "Sure, I'll be right back. Ready mates?" He looked at the small moles and they nodded. "Righto then, off we go!" Skipper sped off through the rain and down into the 

Great Hall. 

Sighing wearily, Harwood trundled down the stairs and into his room, pushing through mounds of scrolls littered across the floor. He sat down on his bed and carefully picked up a piece of yellowing parchment. Then he picked up his quill and began copying part of the parchment. After a while, the Recorder grew sleepy and leaned his head back against the cool stone wall. 

"Yeowch!" He turned to look at the wall and found that the stone had gone far into 

the wall and settled in a crevice far back. Consumed with curiosity, he reached a paw in and found an old piece of paper. He carefully smoothed it and pushed his spectacles up. Then he read aloud. 

"Badgers come, badgers go, Some die young, some die old. Each defeat the mighty hordes, Except the year of wetness told. The Darkness consumes, Too great is the horde. Fangs of evil, Destroy the mighty Lord. Send forth the two, The two in the Red. Search all the Walls, Conquering group by these led. Red and dark velvet, Lead the way for all ends. Two shall go, Two shall defend. Guardian returns, Original lied. One shall deem new title, One shall be at my 

side. High on the wall, I see it true. Look to the symbol, Truth in the blue." 

Brother Harwood scratched his head in a puzzled manner. At that moment, Skipper entered, balancing in one paw, a tray filled with shrimp and watercress soup, honeyoat scones with mint cream on the side, and with the other paw holding a flask of October Ale. He even had a half-eaten vegetable pastie in his mouth. 

"Hoo there, Har. Lunch is served." He set the food down, pushing scrolls away and glancing at the Recorder. "Getcha some vegetable pasties too if ya want." When he noticed the mouse wasn't listening to him he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Whatcha got there, mate?" 

Harwood handed the paper to Skipper. "Go ahead and read it, Skip." 

Skipper cleared his throat in an embarrassed way. "'ar, I never bothered ta learn, to busy teachin' messif fightin' an that." 

The Recorder smiled and took the paper back from the abashed otter. He cleared his throat and read the poem aloud. When he was finished, Skipper sat down on the edge of the bed and shrugged. 

"I can't make 'ead er rudder of it, mate. 'Spose it's a riddle?" 

Harwood nodded, pointing his paw at the parchment. "That's exactly what it is, Skip. It's also a prediction of the future, written many, many seasons ago!" 


	4. At the Hilt

Abbess Ino, Brother Harwood, Skipper of the Otters, Redwick the squirrelmaid, and her best friend, Vunnel, a young molemaid, sat in the Recorder's room, puzzling over the strange poem. 

Abbess Ino reached into the hole in the wall, only to come out empty pawed. "Well, I guess that's all." 

Ino was an older mouse, and had been Abbess for a very long time, ever since she was young. She was a strict kind of creature and stood no trouble. However she was a great friend and the Abbey had prospered in her years. When Skipper informed her of what the Recorder had found, she immediately came to help, Redwick and Vunnel in tow. Vunnel peered closely at the poem, squinting until her beady eyes disappeared into her velvety face. 

"Oi doan't knaow wot to make of it. It sure bee a funnee poem." She turned to look at Redwick. "Wot do 'ee think, Redwick?" 

The squirrel seemed to be thinking deeply. "Well, it talks 'bout Redwall, see, um, 'the two in the Red', 'search in the Walls'." Suddenly she gasped. "Vunnel, ya 'spose the poem's talkin' 'bout 

us? See, it says, 'red and dark velvet.'" 

Ino frowned. "Redwick, I know how much you'd like to go out and prove yourself in Mossflower. Going out and searching for vermin and what not, but there are many squirrels and moles in Redwall. We don't even know if this poem is as old as Brother Harwood says." The 

pair's eyes were downcast. 

"Of course, marm." Harwood cleared his throat to break the tension. "Well, we've got to read on." Suddenly his eyes popped out of his head. "Hoo! Look the last line, the first words, and the first letters! They say hilt!" 

Everybeast stared at him. 

Skipper thumped his rudder on the floor. "What's that, matey?" 

Harwood pointed to the last verse. "High on the wall, I see it true. Look to the symbol, Truth in the blue. This may be a big leap, but clues leading to who the duo is, may lie in the hilt of Martin the Warrior's sword." 

Vunnel and Redwick practically bowled the Abbess over in their haste to get to the sword. 

"Oi bee sory, marm. Beggin' 'ee pardon." 

"Sorry Abbess, gotta check the sword!" 

Ino frowned again at Harwood. "Why do you encourage them like that, Harwood? You of all beasts certainly can't find this plausible." 

Harwood shrugged and stood up. "Ino, I'm not really sure, but I'm almost sure this is genuine." 

The two friends hurried into the Great Hall. The Sword of Martin the Warrior hung on the wall, next to the marvelous tapestry of Martin himself. Martin lounged on his sword in the tapestry, as vermin fled out of the sides. Vunnel stopped and gazed longingly at it. 

"Boi okey, weren't it bee wunerful if it deed spoke of usn's." She absentmindedly tugged her snout out of respect for the long dead mouse warrior. Redwick, however, didn't stop till she 

reached the sword. Before plucking it off the wall though, she gazed at it as if in a trance. It gleamed even in the dim light, reflecting the ice blue, double-edged blade, with the deep blood channel in the center. The squirrelmaid grasped the black bound hilt, staring at the blood red pommel stone, above the hilt. Vunnel walked behind the squirrel and stood on tip-paw. 

"Yoo ar the firs'beast to take 'e sord off'n 'e wall since Dann Rebabaguba." 

Redwick nodded, silently chuckling at her mole friend's pronunciation of the ancient warrior's 

name. 

"Aye. The abbey hasn't had a Champion of Redwall since Dann Reguba. Mebbe that'll change soon." She finally glanced at the mole, who nodded. Ino and the rest had finally caught up. 

"Careful now,"warned Ino. "Don't cut yourself." 

At that moment Rupple and Grimmble came around the corner, followed by Sister Karenn. She grabbed the two moles and held them back. 

"Careful m'dearies. Stay away from the sword." She looked up. "Out of curiosity, Vunnel, what are you doing?" 

The young mole tugged her snout again. "Brother Harwood foun' a poem an' its tellin' us'ns we need to check 'e gurt sord, marm." 

Grimmble jumped up and down excitedly. "Lookey at yon gurt sord, Ruppely! Oi'll chop off 'ee tail wid it!" 

Rupple laughed, pretending to be frightened, by ducking behind Karenn. The Sister cuffed Grimmble gently. "I'll have nobeast choppin' off anybeast's tail, but I'll tan your fur, Grimmble, if you can't keep good manners." 

"Twas only fullin'," growled Grimmble remorsefully. "I harv gudd mamers. Twas only fullin'." 

Redwick, though, had a quick temper and was despairing. She tore at the hilt until her paw ached, but she was gaining no edge. "Hellsteeth and Darkgates, there's not even a cut in 

the hi-" 

Ino stiffened and Harwood cleared his throat uncomfortably, breaking the squirrel off. Even Skipper was shaking his head softly. Redwick looked around confused, not realizing her mistake. Vunnel grabbed the squirrels tail and tugged it slightly. 

"'Ee said a gurt bad word, Redwick." 

Rupple piped up in the silence that followed. He scratched his soft head and blinked. "Wot be Bellsteeth an' Darkdates?" 

Sister Karenn grabbed the paws of the dibbuns and led them off, quietly whispering to the mole twins to forget the words. 

Redwick looked horrible. "I'm sorry Mother Abbess, it's jus' this sword an' the poem and I can't figure out any of it an'- She broke off when nobeast said anything, let alone move. After what seemed like eternity, Ino spoke. 

"Redwick, put the sword back on the wall. I've had enough of this Martin the Warrior poem rubbish. Yes, Redwick, hang it up and go to the dormitory. Stay there until called for. No 

Vunnel, she goes by herself. You may go outside if you wish." Then the Abbess turned a severe eye to the group behind her. "As for the rest of you I never want to hear of this poem again. You're all acting like a bunch of dibbuns on Name Day." Even the grown beasts shuffled their paws in embarrassment. 

Redwick looked through hot tears of anger at Ino, blinking as they coursed unchecked down her cheeks. She rubbed her snout with her paw and then ran up the steps. She stopped at the top and glared, sniffling, at the mouse. 

"I hate you, do you understand me? I hate you and hope somebeast pushes you off the battlements!" She fled into the dormitory, slamming the door behind her. Then she flung herself onto her bed and sobbed into the pillow. 

Back in the Great Hall, Vunnel picked up the discarded sword and carefully hung it back up. Then she tugged her snout and walked out to the pond, where she dangled her foot paws in the warm water. Several tears of her own, ran down silently. 

Skipper followed her out, but Harwood stayed behind to try to reason with the angry Abbess. 

"Ino, you must excuse Redwick. She was orphaned here and I suppose she still has a lot to learn about our Order. Don't be too hard on the poor child." 

The Abbess didn't seem to be listening. "She just ought to be glad be don't have a badger 

Guardian here." 

Harwood sighed in resignation and left, picking up the poem and stuffing it in his habit's pocket. Ino stood undecided in the Great Hall, then turned to look at the tapestry. She sighed wearily. 

"Oh, Martin. What is this? Is this some test for those two dear children or a test of my patience?" 

The picture of the warrior just smiled jauntily back at her. A little voice in her head kept telling her she was young and adventurous once, but she brushed it away. The mouse then turned to the sword staring at the hilt. Then she chided herself for being dragged into this. She sighed again and left, shutting the door behind her quietly. The candles flickered out for several moments, and when they went back on, Martin's eyes seemed downcast 


	5. Engarde

The group re-lit the fire and warmed themselves around it. The rain had slackened, but it was still chilly. Flopeer was moodily poking the fire with a long stick. Garble was sleeping curled 

up next to him and Dral was conversing quietly with Captain Sapwood. They would leave soon after dawn and reach the abbey near nightfall. 

"Good tucker there," remarked Sapwood. "Least so I've heard." 

Dral nodded. "Aye, matey. Best in the lands. Wait'll ya taste the October Ale." The otter reached into the bag and pulled out a ripe apple. "Last o' the vittles I got." 

Sargent Flopeer looked up. "Give it 'ere ol' chap." When Dral hesitated, Flopeer rolled his eyes. "I won't scoff it chum. Now toss it over!" Dral complied and the hare pocketed the apple. "Now get some snooze time. Long day tomorrow." 

Sapwood and the otter looked at each other and then back at the exceptionally long eared hare. Finally Sapwood nodded. 

"Righto Dral-thing. Let's get a little shut eye!" 

About an hour before dawn, Reen shook the two otters awake. "Ya gonna sleep the day away, lads? Gotta make the best o' this jolly day!" Bluback groaned and sat up, Dral already busy unwinding the bandages on his paw. 

Dral stood up and wandered off for more herbs to set on his wound, while Bluback was surprised to see food piled on the ground. 

Flopeer, however, was busy entertaining the little mole. "Now pay attention m'lad and lemme show ya a bit o' magic." He looked up and winked at Bluback. "That's also how the all the food appeared. We had more but ol' Beachthingy scoffed it all down!" 

Beachtree laughed, trying to be indignant. "Phwaw! As hif hol' Sarge Flopyears wasn't hawakened by his tummyclock and scoffed the first part hof the brekkers Hi found!" 

Flopeer glared at Beachtree. "I say, bit of a bad show, ol' gel! I didn't scoff the half of it! That was the work of Cap'n Woodysap here!" 

Sapwood nodded, a grin going from ear to ear. "Well I ain't tellin' any bally fibs, all the scoffin' was done by me!" 

Everybeast couldn't help but laugh. 

Finally, Flopeer turned back to Garble. "Right ho! Prepare to be astounded." As Garble sat 

still, wide-eyed, Flopeer reached over and pulled the apple from the mole's ear. Garble stared at it in shock, then back at the hare. 

"You'm really bee a magic beaster! How did 'ee gurt apple get in me liddle ear?" 

"Magic," whispered Flopeer dramatically. 

"Blow me down with a feather," chuckled, Tallonia. "I can do that very same thing! Move over ol' feller." She crouched in front of the astounded mole, pushing Flopeer away, and reached to Garbles other ear. This time, however, the hare pulled out a small dagger. "Hmph! 'Spose this is wot ya get fer not cleaning yer ears ya rotten little blighter." 

The poor little mole's eyes almost popped out of his head. He reached one paw to one ear and his other paw to the other ear. "Boi okey, thers not nothin' naow!" 

Dral returned, his paw bandaged once more. Something had over come him since the previous day. His normally jovious manner was gone. "Everybeast ready?" 

Bluback munched a pawful of strawberries before packing the rest into the haversack. "Righty mates, off we go!" 

Flopeer picked up the little mole, placing him on is shoulders. Then he picked up his lance and sling, the other hares following suit. They exited the woods and back onto the muddy road. 

The rain was still coming down and after several minutes they were all ready soaked to the bone. 

Suddenly Sapwood threw back his head and began singing at the top of his lungs. 

"Oh I'm hare from a great big mountain! 

Shoulder yer lance, chaps, load me sling! 

Cause I'm a hare from a great big mountain! 

And you jolly lot should hear me sing! 

"Let the vermin come knockin', I dare ye! 

Draw yer sword, lads, fill me quiver! 

Let the vermin come knockin', I dare ye! 

I'll slash an' bash, an' quake yer liver! 

"Didn't no beast say, beware the hare? 

Sharpen yer javelin, buckos, hone yer arrers! 

Didn't no beast say, beware the hare? 

Go recruit yer coffin' bearers! 

"Well, ol' thing, it's yer very last mistake! 

Shout out Eulalia, chums, that's what yer sung! 

Well, ol' thing it's yer very last mistake! 

Ya' climb up me mountain an' off yer slung!" 

Sapwood turned to look behind him, smiling smugly. "Alright, lets see if anybeast can out do me." 

Dral nudged Flopeer. "Why don't ya try, matey!" 

Flopeer smiled slyly at the otter. "Ah, don't ya worry ya great water walloper! I've just gotta give otherbeasts a chance 'for I give 'em a good show!" 

Tallonia grinned. "Righto Sappy!" She cleared her throat and then began the 

poem. 

"Once I chanced upon a jolly ol' frog, 

And it invited me in for tea! 

I said 'Old chum, I challenge you to a scoff!' 

The bally thing thought he could beat me! 

"I scoffed scones an' tarts, 

Soup an' bilberries, Cordial an' pies, 

Truffles an' cherries!" 

"I scoffed turnips an' walnuts, 

Carrots an' cider, 

White cheese an' plumcake, 

What a rotten ol' blighter! 

"The blinkin' think just kept on scoffin' 

But he ran out a room. 

So while I kept at the tucker 

The filthy scoundrel went Boom!" 

She shouted the last word so loud Flopeer nearly died of shock. Bluback laughed and pounded Flopeer's back as the hare gasped for breath. Beachtree was laughing so hard Sapwood was suddenly worried he'd lose two close friends right into the mud. 

"I say, steady on old gel! Bob me tail, Tallonia! That was luvely!" They got the rest of their laughing out of themselves and then Reen suddenly stopped. 

"The ol' tum is talkin'!" He winked at Tallonia. "What say we have a good old scoff-off as soon as we reach this Redwall place." 

Tallonia giggled. "Well, for right now, I think it's about lunch time." The new friends could hardly believe they'd already been traveling half the day. They quickly got into the woods. They found a slightly dry area and sat down, breaking out the last of the supplies. After a quick bite and a small nap, they were back on their paws and onto the muddy road. Bluback turned to talk to Beachtree but found her to be absorbed in her own thoughts. 

"Alright hold thing," she said suddenly to Tallonia. "Here's my try at a jolly poem." 

"Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

listen up hol' chap! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

Open up yer jolly trap! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

Hi'm a singin' hare! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

Faster than you dare! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

Aye, Hi can scoff too! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

But, Hi c'n sing till Hi'm blue! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

I'll sing till Hi see red! 

Willy nilly, nilly willy, 

Or until yer dead!" 

The hare sang so fast, the rest of the group stopped and stared openmouthed at Beachtree. 

"Mercy me," exclaimed Reen, as breathlessly as if he had done the song. "C'n ya still breathe ol' gel?" 

Beachtree smiled modestly, blushing a deep red from the applause, hardly out of breath at all, as Flopeer swung a paw around the hare's shoulder, Garble pounding her head. 

"Boi okey, marm! That bee wunnerful! How did 'ee doo that? Did 'ee coom up wi' it?" Beachtree shook her head. 

"No Garwotsits. Learned the jolly song from a group of hedgehog chaps an' chapesses. They'd dance to it, doncha know!" She reached into Bluback's haversack and pulled out a flask of old water, taking a deep swig. Then, she pulled a wry face, spitting it out, and showering the otter in front of her. "Phwaw, bleck!" She wiped her mouth with a paw. "First thing Hi'm doin' when we reach jolly old Habbey is Hi'm gonna have some cordial. Can't stand another bloomin' second of this moldy, ol' water." 

Sapwood closed his eyes momentarily as he walked along. "I'd like a luvely turnover, with gray gravy, leek, carrots and mushrooms. Wot about you two riverdogs?" 

Bluback and Dral grinned at each other. "Well that ain't 'ard matey! It would 'ave to be shrimp an' 'otroot soup!" 

"Good eggs," exclaimed Flopeer. "An' wots that old chap?" 

Once more, the two otters grinned at each other. "Righto hares. 'Ere's the first diddy me an' me mate Dral, learned." 

"When I was just a liddle beast, 

I was so small an' weak, 

I'd often fall flat on me tail, 

An' I could 'ardly speak. 

I scare could totter round the floor, 

Me whiskers used to droop, 

'Til granma made a great big pot, 

Of good ol' 'otroot soup! 

An' now I'm brisker than a bee, 

More fitter than a mole, 

Most everyday, I 'ear granma say, 

'Give 'im another bowl.' 

I'll live a thousand seasons, 

Grow strong as any tree, 

Give me a spoon an' fetch it soon, 

Good 'otroot soup for me!" 

Amidst the applauding, Dral shook a paw. "Careful though, messmates; it's the 'otest soup 

yer ever gonna clap yer eyes on!" 


	6. Visitors

Bittic the ferret had stopped at the door of the forge. His beating heart seemed to echo through the cavernous area and his breathing was hard and heavy. Bittic was a big, stupid ferret, and he wasn't afraid of many things. One of these things, though, was Dethcurl the Seer. Azcar had killed the guard's best mate when he'd hesitated and Bittic was mad about it. He took his anger to be courage and took a step into the dark forge. He peered about and soon he could make out the dark shape of the vixen as she crouched by the window. 

Dethcurl held the skull of Moyra the Badger in her paws, rattling the paw bones of the dead Lady Moyra in the skull. She added several colorful sticks and then craned her snout upwards, letting loose an unearthly howl. 

Bittic stepped in another pace and then called out in what he hoped was a commanding tone. "Er, er, vixen! This s'Bittic, er, Royal Guard ter, er, Mistress Azcar." He fumbled with his spear as he took another step. "She, er, commands yer pressance! Yer gutta cum with me." 

Dethcurl rose swiftly, scattering the bones about her. Her cloak flowed behind her and up close one would notice it was made out of tails of various creatures, woven together. She held a gnarled staff in her paws, stained a deep red, and with the skull of a mouse fixed atop it. The vixen wore a breastplate made of the breastbones of her dead mate and a skirt wrapped around her waist consisted of the many ears of many hares. Dethcurl pushed her snout up close to Bittic and the terrified guard could smell blood. The Seer pressed the leering skull up close to the ferret. "Who demands the presence of the magic one? 

The moon twill dance only for me, 

The sun will seek your fated doom, 

Look into my death net, your Mistress will see." 

The guard gave one last look at the strange vixen and then fled down the hallway, leaving his spear lying on the ground. The vixen sniggered quite normally, and still chuckling to herself, padded silently through the honeycomb passages she already knew well. A soft knock at the heavy wooden door announced the arrival of Dethcurl the Seer. Mlura hesitantly opened the door, and the vixen stepped in. She turned her icy stare to the ferret advisor and Mlura shrank back. The fox stepped in and glanced about the lavishly furnished room. Ornate paintings and tapestries covered the walls, along with swords set with all types of gems, gold and silver. All of it had been taken from the badger's treasure room. At the moment, Azcar was busy studying a curious golden flail, as her Captains stared around, greed consuming their features. Veeor was sulking in the corner, Dryeye close behind him. 

"Mistress! The Seer is here!" Mlura's voice was shaky. The Captains stopped talking immediately. Dryeye gulped fearfully. 

"What is she doing here," growled the tall, broad shouldered ferret son of Mlura, Greentooth, indicating to the vixen. A second Captain, Grimclaw, snarled at the vixen, his paw on his double-bladed dagger. It was curious in itself, as it had a blade on both ends and was set with 

sea green precious stones. Only the Captains and Azcar had no fear of the Seer; they knew she was all bark and no bite. That's why Darkfang had chosen them as Captains. Her brother claimed not to fear the Seer, but his features showed it plain enough. Ripeye tested his sword point against his paw. Like the other Captains, they each got a sword from the badger's treasures. He had chosen one much like his Assassin's, with a black bound hilt, set with four beautiful rosy pink pearls, and a deep blood channel. The fourth Captain, Greypaw, remained silent, watching the fox closely. 

Azcar stepped forward. "Sit." It wasn't an option. The ferrets and the vixen sat down, Mlura to the Assassin's right and Dethcurl to her left. Veeor sat at the opposite part of the table, Dryeye to his right. "As you know," Azcar said, twirling one of her daggers lazily. "I have taken 

most of the southern land, killing all and taking no captives. One more thing stands in my way to total occupation: Redwall." She spat out the word and the Captains glanced worriedly at each other. 

Finally Greypaw spoke up. "But mistress, cer'ainly ya know the stories o' Redwall. The bones of great Warlords litter the front gates- 

"Bones of great Warlords litter the front gates of Salamandastron, fool, yet I have taken it! I have taken it! I have achieved more than all the Warlords in history combined!" Her voice was shrill and it silenced the Captain. She composed herself before speaking again. "As soon as this place has been cleared and defended by half of my Horde, the other half will lead off to conquer Redwall. There, however, we will capture them so they may slave for me." She closed her eyes, a picture forming in her head. She was brought back by a gauntlet paw smashing down on the table. It was her brother. 

"Mudbrain, 'ats insane! Any idjit knows all the stories, you o' all vermin! I'm Master o' this 'Orde too!" His paw strayed to the fresh scar across his cheek, anger and hatred for his sister welling inside him as his other paw strayed to his sword. 

Azcar smiled to herself, knowing she had achieved her goal once more, her hotheaded brother's temper flaring. He stood up with the clatter of his chair, his sword drawn. He fixed his sister with his murderous stare, and the Captains stood up, surprised. They backed against the wall, along with the vixen. Mlura and Dryeye remained seated; their mouths hanging open, as they stared at the brother and sister. Then they stood up and backed up to the walls, next to the Seer. Azcar didn't even move. 

The gathered creatures held their breaths, wondering what would happen next. Finally, Veeor's voice rang out. 

"Sister, I challenge ya to a Duel o' the Fangs. To the death! The winner, of course, 'll get control o' the 'Orde, the loser bein' dead! Do ya accept, scumpaw?" 

Remaining seated, Azcar nodded. "But of course, dear brother. Provided it is under the usual terms; nobeast's interfering." 

Veeor nodded, and advanced on her with a bloodcurdling war cry.   
  


Spliteer was leading Flagg, Flesnout, Greeseer and Skabeye on a double march through the woods of Mossflower. Flesnout was lagging farther and farther behind, until Spliteer ordered a halt. 

Flesnout was not an exceptionally bright ferret and he smiled gratefully as Spliteer strode over to him. "t'anks, Spliteer. I'm really tired. We been on a double march so long, I'v fergotten what rest's like, huh huh!" 

Spliteer was a tall, lanky ferret, with an extremely short temper. He put his face close to Flesnout's. He swiftly drew his sword and ran the shocked ferret clean through. "If yer can't keep up," he spat on the body, "yer get lef' be'ind." Then he turned back, wiping his sword clean on the grass. "Righty, me lucky boyos. Anybeast else tired? Double march continuers! W'll break at dusk, eat, take a quick rest, than it's back on yer paws! W'll get ter Redwall by termarrer evnin', if we keep up the steady marchin'." 

They marched onward and soon dusk fell. They managed to shoot some small birds and Skabeye found a small stream to the west. They slept until midnight, when Spliteer roughly awakened the others and they were off again. By dusk of that day, Redwall Abbey could be seen just in the distance. 


	7. Vermin in the Abbey

Morning at Redwall Abbey brought the tearstained face of Redwick to the window. Vunnel had brought the squirrels dinner up last night, but she could only talk quickly to her friend. Then she had to hurry back downstairs. Redwick's stomach growled hungrily and she yawned. The remembrance of last night, brought new tears to her eyes, but she fought them off. 

A knock came at the door, but she said nothing. The door opened and Abbess Ino entered. She looked weary, as if she hadn't slept all night, and her habit was creased. If she had slept, she hadn't bothered to change. Her eyes were downcast and she looked up with great sadness. 

"Redwick, I must apologize. Brother Harwood gave me a good dressing-down last night, and I believe I acted quite foolishly. My quick temper got the best of me, and that's not something that should happen to the Abbess. "However, even though you will not look up at me, which I can understand, I have something for you." She held out an old rolled scroll, but when the squirrelmaid didn't take it, Ino sighed and set it down on Redwick's bed. "It came to be in a dream last night, and when I woke up, I found myself standing in front of the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. He recited the poem to me and I sort of...fainted. When I came to, I brought my paw up to steady myself against the wall and the stone, underneath the hilt of the sword, slid in. This is what was inside." Redwick still didn't look up, so Ino sighed again. "If you'll excuse me, I must go attend to our guests." She left with one last glance to the squirrel, and then quietly closed the door. 

Redwick finally turned and stared silently at the scroll. Then, with a shaky paw, she gingerly picked it up, unrolling it and reading it. 

"The apple anew, 

Stands tall and alone, 

Disliked by few, 

Your name shall be known. 

The apple and soil, 

Meet close in the heart, 

One close to royal, 

The other, apart. 

One carries pears, 

The other my words, 

The small one ensnares, 

The help of the birds. 

Seek out the ones, 

In the blue overhead, 

Pears hold the sun, 

Beware the dead." 

Redwick stared at it in shock. The poem was most certainly about her and Vunnel. No 

other squirrel and mole were that close of friends in the entire abbey. Besides, if it was meant for later, Harwood would never have found it, Ino would never have- Ino! Redwick was back to feeling miserable. It wasn't the Abbess that should have been apologizing. It was herself. When her temper flared, she was worse than the mouse. She folded the scroll up and exited the room, heading strait for the kitchens. 

The fat little Friar looked up at her arrival. "Ahh, m'dear Redwick," squealed Friar. "It's good to see you again! You should've seen poor Ino last night! She was beside herself with remorse for acting so shortly. She does, however, wish to speak with you. Here, have some 

fresh blueberry scones and some meadow cream." 

As the squirrelmaid was accepting the scones, a paw suddenly shoved the swing doors open and five worn looking hares entered. "Ah the jolly ol' kitchens! So good to finally see one, after all the flippin' traipsin' 'ere an' there!" The hare grabbed the shocked Friar's paw and patted 

it. "You must be Friar Guddly, pleased ter meetcha I'm sure. Wot ya cookin' up fer five famished 'ares?" 

Friar Guddly grabbed a rolling pin and brandished it menacingly at the hare. "Out of my kitchens, horrible beasts! Out now! You're gonna eat us out of house an' Abbey! Out, now!" 

"Bit of a bad show there, old chap," grumbled the hare indignantly, but retreated with the rest of the hares. Redwick suppressed a giggle and followed them out. 

"Thanks Friar!" Then Redwick chuckled slyly. "Oh, by the way, as I understand, they're 

intent on staying for quite some time." Redwick left the kitchens, laughing, as Guddly emitted a strangled sob. 

The young squirrel entered Great Hall and found Ino, Harwood, Skipper, two otters and the five hares eating a light, late, breakfast. The hare that had spoken earlier got up and bowed gallantly. 

"At ya service, young squirrelmaid. I am Captain Turnel Thistledown Sapwood of the Sa- 

"Oh shove a cork in it, mate," growled one of the otters she didn't know. He smiled at her. "I'm Dral, me matey Bluback, that's Sapwood there, an' Reen, his sister Tallonia, that's Flopeer an' that's Beachtree." "Redwick, these are hares from Salamandastron," 

Abbess Ino spoke up, looking very grave. "Their home has been taken over by an evil ferret and her Death Horde. They've come asking for our help. I was just telling them about the poem as they ate." 

Bluback chuckled. "More like scoffed, marm." 

Flopeer mumbled something and got a playful shove from the otter. 

"Do ya 'ave the scroll Red-thing," asked Tallonia as she dribbled some honey on her blueberry scones. 

Redwick shook her head. "No, I forgot it upstairs, marm. I'll be right back!" She quickly ran up the stairs and grabbed the scroll. As she was about to leave, a large rock flew through the open window. She stopped dead in her tracks and glanced warily at the window. She crossed over to it and looked out. 

Four ferrets were standing just outside the walls. The biggest waved at her, grinning a snaggle-toothed grin. "'Ey matey! You sure live in a nice snug Abbey." 

Redwick nodded and stared hard at the rag tag group below her. "That's right. This is Redwall Abbey. We are here to provide food and shelter to those who have none." 

Skabeye laughed harshly and elbowed Spliteer in the side. "Harharhar, Spliteer. 'Is must be the grandness place in the entire werld. I betcha the rabbits er in 'ere! Lets arsk 'er if they ar!" 

Spliteer buffeted the ferret. "Sure nitwit. Then they cin invite us in an' kill us. Naw, idjit, 

we gota figur out some way ter get in so we cin tell Azcar wur they went. She wantsa take the place anyways." He called back up to the squirrel. "Me an' my muckers er alone an' 'ungry. Is it possible fer us ta spend a night in yer great, protective walls?" 

The squirrel tugged at her habit undecided. "Tell ya what, ferret. I'll go an' talk to the Abbess and you an' yer minions cin go round the front an' wait there." The squirrel disappeared from view. 

Flagg shook his head, scratching his ripped ear. "If ya arsk me, mucker, they ain't gunna let us in." 

Spliteer glowered at him. "I didn't arsk yer opinion, thick'ead. Now le's go round front like the tree'opper said an' wait there. These stupid cowards'll let us in." 

"Dern't be to 'asty en yore thinkin', mucker. Many a' gret warlords, better an' ar Darkfangs, 'ave been slaughtered unmerciff'ly 'ere," said Greeseer. The ferrets glanced in disbelief at the Abbey. 

"Them?" Skabeye asked in shock. Nobeast could believe that a bunch of peace loving mice, otters and squirrels could defeat a ferret as mighty as the Darkfang. 

Redwick came back down the stairs and paused uncertainly. "Abbess, there are four ferrets outside our walls, askin' to be let in." 

Sapwood's ears rose up. "Ferrets, old tree walloper? Outside this jolly Abbey?" The hares 

leapt to their paws, followed by the rest of the creatures in Great Hall. As they went outside, the first cries of alarm were heard from some hedgehogs on top of the wall in front of the main gate. They ascended the stairs and looked down at the burly ferrets. Flopeer peered angrily at them. 

"Phwaw! I say, y'scurvy villans! Whad'ya want 'ere?" 

Skabeye elbowed Flagg. "Thar's the rabbits, mucker. Let's git in 'ere an' finish em' off!" 

Still smiling upwards, Spliteer trampled on Skabeye's paw, causing the ferret to jump up and down on one paw, nursing the other. Spliteer looked sadly up at the Redwallers. "Y'see 

mates. We been wanderin' 'ungry, alone an' wounded fer as long as anybeast cin remember." 

Abbess Ino seemed to soften slightly as the ragged group below her. "Even though they are vermin, they still are in the need of our help. Maybe one night is not asking too much. Then in the morning we can send them on their way with some supplies." She looked from the hares to Skipper and then back again. 

Tallonia was peering intensely at Spliteer. The ferret jogged her memory as flashes of the battle for Salamandastron raced through her head. There, on the ledge with Whitepaw, back to back, ten ferrets closing in. Somebeast raised his sword and...it was gone again. Tallonia shook her head to clear it and the tears. 

Skipper conversed with Sapwood and Vunnel trundled up the stairs to stand by her squirrel friend. Another mole was following her. 

"'Ello, Redwick. Oi faound Garble 'ere an' oi thought 'ee could cum with us. 'Ee is only 'bout a season youn'er than us." Then Vunnel looked down at the ferrets, wrinkling her nose. "Wot be them doin' ere?" 

Redwick waved a greeting to Garble. "I don't know, Vunnel." Finally, Skipper nodded. "I guess the vermin can come in, but they'd best be'ave. They can eat and drink their fill, then they are given a room and kept under guard. We can't have them wanderin' about, you understand, marm." 

Ino nodded firmly in agreement. "But, of course, Skipper." 

The gates opened slowly and Skipper escorted the vermin in. The ferrets glanced around the Abbey in awe. It was the most beautiful sight they had ever and would ever see. "Huh huh, can't wait'll the Darkfangs take this place. Twill be nice to live in." Greeseer smiled, dumbly looking around. Then the vermin looked up at the hares. 


	8. The Duel

Veeor was nearly on top of Azcar before she bothered to do anything. Then, with her answering war cry, she leapt to her paws, as steel clashed against steel, sparks shooting off in all directions. Veeor had brute strength, but Azcar had cunning and patience. 

First, Veeor drove his sister backwards, nearly to the wall, before Azcar slid sideways, a small smile on her face. She reverse slashed her brother, staying low, and an ugly gash was carved on his left arm. This time, however, he wasn't going to fall for her old trick. He ignored the searing pain and brought a blow to her paw. With a scream of pain and anger, Azcar retorted with several powerful down blows. Veeor laughed, knowing his strength would outlast hers. He began a second powerful counter attack, their swords clashing again and again and again. But as he brought down each blow he felt his left arm going numb. Veeor retreated slightly and shook his arm. He couldn't move it. Panicking, he realized his shoulder had gone numb, closely following, the left side of his chest. His horrible sister had poisoned her sword! 

With a scream, he tried one last offensive. But he was far too weak. The numbness had spread through his entire left side. He crumpled to his side and stared wide-eyed up at Azcar Darkfang. A triumphant smile spread across her face, and she plucked her brother's sword out of his numbed over paw. Then Azcar turned to face the Captains, the Seer and the two advisors. A cruel look displayed on her features as she spoke. 

"As you can see, my brother is no match for me, he is far to weak compared to your Mistress." 

Veeor tried desperately to explain, but he couldn't force his mouth to open, nor wave to Dryeye. He was already having trouble breathing; he was slowly suffocating. None of the creatures in the room seemed even to suspect poison. Not even Mlura knew the truth. 

"Now, my brother will die. Slowly, but yes, he will die." 

For what seemed like forever, the creatures stood close to each other, peering at Veeor Darkfang as he slowly died. Finally, his eyes clouded over, but they didn't shut. With another triumphant smile playing across her features, Azcar raised her sword and swung down hard. Veeor's head popped off like a doll's. Then she picked up the head and walked to the window. 

"Ferrets," she called out in her commanding tone, her Captains crowding behind her. Mlura watched Dryeye carefully and ordered the guards outside not to let him get away if he tried to escape. "Ferrets," Azcar said again, as one by one, the working creatures below turned to look at her and her brother's head. "This is Veeor Darkfang, your late Master. He dared challenge me to a Battle of the Fangs and" she chuckled darkly, "he lost." Her voice raised almost shrilly. "Now 

who is your Mistress?" 

"Azcar, Azcar, Keeper of the Fang, unite the Ferrets of Old, we serve You to the end! We are all one body, one servant, who lusts for battle and the chance to kill and die in Your Name!" 

The horde below her shouted out her name and cheered wildly, raising shovels, lighted torches and a motley collection of weapons. "Azcar. Azcar. Azcar!" 

Azcar Darkfang turned back from the window, but not before flinging the head outside. Her triumphant smile grew broader, as her eyes fell upon Dryeye. The pathetic ferret shrunk into the wall, his eyes wide with terror. "Please, Mistress. I never wen' agaisnt ya or anythin' o' the sort. I always been true to ya, 'onest, Mistress," he whimpered, beginning to shake all over. "I 

never dun nuttin' 'gainst ya, yer, yer brother forced me to do all o' everythin an' I always says, Dryeye says, 'Master, I ain't gonna d- 

"Shut up," Azcar snapped. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm tired of your failures, and your undermining of my authority! Elite!" 

The door opened and Dragsnout and Breakboan entered the room. Dryeye let out a screech as they approached. The Elite were a group of giant ferrets, serving as personal bodyguards for Azcar. They wore heavy black armor and carried heavy, black maces. Great swords hung at their waist and black spikes were attached to their knee and elbow armor. Dryeye had nowhere to flee to or hide behind, for everybeast was afraid of the Elite- even, Azcar's Captains. 

Dragsnout grabbed Dryeye by the fur of his neck and held him up, standing behind Breakboan, as Breakboan dropped to one knee and held out a chain mailed paw. The ferrets in the room watched Azcar glance about at the curious assortment of weapons adorning the room. At 

first it seemed that none fit the occasion. Then the strange golden flail she been looking at earlier, gleamed in the sunlight and caught her eye. She strode over to it and plucked it off the wall. Made of solid gold, with thick, leather thongs, each thong had a golden ball attached to the end. She whirled it slightly, the balls clacking together in a satisfying manner. Dryeye let out a piteous wail and Dragsnout cuffed him into silence. Darkfang put the flail in Breakboan's outstretched paw. 

"Do you know how to use this, Elite?" 

The Elite nodded slowly. "Old punishment on slaves, taken out of use when creatures improperly trained with the flail, killed themselves or others with it." He spoke devoid of emotion. 

Dryeye struggled uselessly in Dragsnout's steel grip. Breakboan stood up and exited the room, followed by the other Elite, Azcar and the rest of the ferrets. They walked through the honeycombed passages and out into the sunlight, where everybeast parted for the group to come 

through. All eyes were on Dryeye as he was dragged through the horde, anticipation and fear written on their features. Finally, the Eilte stopped. Azcar's voice rang out clear. 

"Let this be a sign and warning to anybeast that conspires against me." 

Dryeye cringed in terror as Dragsnout released him and, without a backwards glance, bolted along the shore. Nobeast stopped nor helped his seeming escape. Nobeast wanted attention drawn to themselves at a time like this. All eyes turned back to the Elite as they watched as he twirled the flail above his head, faster and faster and faster. Suddenly he released it and it sped towards Dryeye, no more than a deadly blur. The crunch of bones, a scream of pain and then silence. The horde walked down the shore and stopped just short of the broken body of Veeor's old advisor. They spoke quietly amongst themselves as Azcar and her group came up. 

"That's one 'ell of a mess. 'Ate ter go 'gainst Darkfang," remarked one ferret. 

"'Ate ter go against them Elite, mucker." 

"Spose 'e's dead, mate?" 

"If 'e ain't dead, 'e's maimed fer the rest o' 'is miserable life. Look, 'is legs er completely 

gone!" 

Some were less sympathetic. 

"Huh, well ole Dryeye had it comin' to 'im. Ya know, just yesterday it struck 'is fancy that I weren't diggin' fasts enough. Well, the ole scumbag ups an' 'its me right cross the face wid the 'andle o' 'is spear!" 

"Aye, mate," agreed an older sea ferret. "Dunno 'oo 'e thought 'e was orderin' me ter fetch 'im a cup o' soup. An' a bloomin' pastie! S'like 'e wanted a tea party!" 

Azcar stooped next to Dryeye's crumpled, lifeless body, grim fascination taking hold of her. This was a mighty weapon. The three thongs had wound themselves around his legs and crushed them, taking them right off. Perhaps she would have her forgers make more. If each of her Elite were armed with this, and perhaps a pawful of large ferrets, she could cause death and destruction. It would be hard, however to mass-produce them, so she'd save them for special 

occasions. 

"Get this off him and then throw this miserable corpse far into the ocean. He, nor my brother, are worth anybeast wasting their breath for digging a hole for them." 

The two closest ferrets quickly went about her orders, each one arguing about who would clean the thing and who would dispense of the body. And who would get anything of value on the late advisor's body. 

As the group went back in, they moved out of the way as two ferret guards dragged Veeor's body out. Then, swinging it back and forth, they hurled it far off, into the sea. The horde returned to their various duties and Azcar Darkfang was satisfied. Her brother and his advisor was dead, the crops on the mountain were growing back, Spliteer and his group were off searching out the remaining hares, the beach was almost devoid of dead hares and ferrets and the stench was no longer as over powering as before. And soon, Redwall would be hers for the taking. 


	9. Discovery

Skipper and the otters pulled the pathetic ferrets on dry ground, where they collapsed onto the grass, grateful for the sun on their backs. 

"Never agin, mate," sobbed Greeseer. "Al'ays knew I weren't cut out fer a life at sea!" 

"Up on your paws!" Hemlock ordered curtly. "Now put these on. If you're going to stay here, we'll have you looking like proper Redwallers." 

Spliteer inspected the coarse cloth, longing for his old clothing. A plume of smoke near the front gate erased his hope of ever getting them back. He exchanged a glance with Skabeye, who nodded in the direction of the hares. The largest was watching them closely, the clacking of the thongs carrying on the wind towards the pond. The ferrets dutifully donned the smocks and stood awaiting their punishment. Hemlock exchanged words with the mouse that had earlier allowed them entrance. Then the Sister turned on her heel, leaving the ferrets with the otters, one of the hares, and the Abbess. 

"Welcome to Redwall Abbey, I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Ino, I am the current Abbess. This here is Skipper of the otters. He, Dral, and Bluback, will be staying with you while you remain here. To my left is Captain Sapwood. And you are?" 

Spliteer attempted a small bow. "They call me Spliteer. These are me mates, Skabeye and Greeseer, and that sack o' bones is Flagg." 

Sapwood gave a snort. "Bloomin' charmin' names." 

Ino gave a stern glance to the hare, before bringing her attention back to the vermin. "And where do you hail from?" 

Spliteer thought hard and fast. His answer would have made his mistress proud. "Wer the last o' ar tribe. No doubt yew recergnize th' name Azcar Darkfang? She's gone about the area calling ferrets to 'er banner. Ar's was one o' th' few that refused to join up so e'sly. Join 'r die. We ran like madbeasts." Spliteer shook his rough head sadly. "We lost ar good matey Flesnout when 'e fell be'ind." 

Ino nodded sympathetically, but Spliteer knew the hare didn't believe a word of it. "Indeed, we have heard of the ferret you speak of. She is a true menace. But have no fear, she dare's not come this far." She couldn't prevent a small smile. "Redwall has long stood as a symbol of hope and safety to anybeast in need. Regardless, we can only put you up for a night, as per Captain Sapwood's request. With his recent ordeal it is only polite I honor his wish, or I would gladly extend your stay. In the meantime, however, we ask that you carry your weight. Please follow Skipper into the kitchens." 

The ferret's eyes lit up at the thought of a second helping of food, but Skipper chuckled, shaking his head. "Not so fast mates. T' carry yore weight, you've got t' scrub dirty dishes!"   
  


Flopeer conversed quietly with Beachtree, careful to keep their voices from rebounding off the walls of the empty Great Hall. 

"Ya say ya recognize one o' those scurvy blighters, m'gel?" 

Beachtree nodded, brows furrowed as she concentrated on remembering. "Me n' Whitepaw, up on th' summit...Hi remember at least ten o' 'em closin' in on us. She took out two an' Hi took out two. She cleared a path t' take us safely down. We rushed fer the clearin' an' a big un with a torn ear- split, rather- came outta nowhere." Beachtree felt her control slipping as the details of the night came rushing back to her. "He caught 'er hard on the arm; Hi think he took it right off. She screamed fer me t' run fer it, an Hi did. The vermin smelled blood, an' like the cowards they are, fell on Whitepaw, allowin' fer my escape." 

A sob echoed through the silent room, causing both hares to leap to their foot paws. Redwick had been standing at the doorway listening, but not daring to interrupt. Beachtree quickly crossed over to her, wrapping the young squirrel in her arms. 

"How could any creature be so cruel?" The squirrelmaid demanded, bringing her tears under control, and setting her face in grim determination. "And to think we're letting the very murderers stay under our roof." 

Flopeer joined them. "Now don't you fret, miz. Yore Abbess is nothing but forgiving. There's not a hurtful bone in 'er body. Vermin are evil by birth. There's naught to be done but pity 'em and avoid 'em." 

The sound of paw steps broke the three apart. In traipsed the three otters, the ferrets (who looked amusingly out of place in their white smocks, if anybeast had the heart to laugh), and a ladle wielding Vunnel bringing up the rear. Beachtree's ears straightened in suppressed rage. 

"Naow daon't ee gurt beasties even think o' snartchin' any vikkles or oi'll see to it ar Sister Hemlock gets 'er paws on ye!" Vunnel tugged her snout in Beachtree's direction. "Wull be watchin' 'em gudd, marm, daon't ee fret!" 

The hare smiled in response but with no trace of humor. 


End file.
